What a beautiful day yesterday! I grabbed the chance and went walking from Bolton Abbey, up the Valley of Desolation and across the moor to Simons Seat, the view from the top was spectacular, a light mist hung in the river valley below, bright sunshine and clear blue skies. the moors were alive with Grouse and Pheasant, there must have been some poor shots in the buts this year. Do you hate cyclists ? Of course you do. Having to drive at ten miles an hour whilst the arrogant buggers potter along three abreast, knowing full well they will gob all over your car if you try to squeeze past them. I got caught behind 4 such creatures on the back road, a couple of miles had passed, seemingly in slow motion, when the spandex clad ones went over the top of a small hill, and vanished. I came over the top of the hill to find that a small stream had turned the entire downward slope to ice overnight, the cyclists were skidding all over, feet on the ground, as they attempted to navigate the hazard. I touched the brakes lightly, that was all I needed to know, I wasn't stopping. I gave a short hoot of the horn to warn the cyclists, they of course responded in true bike style, middle fingers were raised. I glided for a few more feet before sounding the horn in a more prolonged fashion, they looked around (mouths full of spittle no doubt) to see a ton of metal containing a grinning, beardy loon, bearing down on them. Panic and chaos ensued, dayglo figures hurled themselves, and their machines, into hedges and ditches, getting either a good scratching or mudbath depending on the side of the road they had chosen for their escape. As I shot past I mouthed words of apology, something along the lines of "Don't look so fucking cocky now do you sonny?", and reaching the dry base of the hill I cheerfully accelerated away, oh happy day. More peeps who can't abide the lycra nazi's can be found here, here, and here.